


that old evil spirit

by evewithanapple



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Case Fic, Futurefic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/pseuds/evewithanapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Special Agents Cooper and Horne are assigned to a missing persons case in Arizona. They don't realize how close a connection it has to Twin Peaks until they get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that old evil spirit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selden/gifts).



"Agent Cooper," Diane says in her most delicate possible voice- the one she uses when Cooper suggests re-arranging the office furniture according to the principles of feng shui or installing a full-press espresso machine right next to his desk so that he can access coffee at any point during the workday- "I'm not sure this is entirely a good idea."

Albert says much the same thing. Well, he eschews the "agent" and the "not sure" portions of Diane's advice in favour of many gratuitous profanities detailing exactly why he thinks this is a bad idea and Cooper is an idiot for agreeing to it. But the general sentiment is the same.

Even Denise- the friend Cooper usually relies on for affirmation in times of crisis- backs them up. "It seems like too many things could go wrong," she says. "I know everything that happened between you is in the past, but I really think this trip is a bad plan."

Unfortunately for Denise, Diane, and Albert, the person who gets the final say on this- the new director, sitting comfortably in what was Gordon Cole's office until he retired to work on a tree farm- is all for the idea. In fact, they're the one who suggested it. "She's one of our best up-and-comers," he says, fingers tented pleasantly. "And you're one of the best of the old guard. I want you to take her with you- show her the ropes, give her an idea of how these cases go. I think it's a fine opportunity for both of you." When Cooper tries to object, he cuts him off. "I know there was some-" an uncomfortable pause- "unpleasantness back in '91. But that's all behind us, the files are sealed, and you've been nothing but an asset to the department since. I insist."

Seeing as how- as the new director points out- the files on the Palmer case and everything related to it have been sealed, and everyone involved forbidden from disclosing what's in them, Cooper has found himself in the difficult position of not wanting to take the assignment but not being able to tell the new director why he doesn't want to. After all, every reason he has for turning it down- the similarities to Laura Palmer's murder, Cooper's general discomfort with field work since returning from Washington, his prior connections to his newly-assigned partner- are sealed away in that file. Bereft of any other options, he accepts with a tight smile. "Be glad to," he says.

And that is how Special Agent Dale Cooper ends up in a car, driving to Arizona to investigate the disappearance of a local teenage girl with newly minted Special Agent Audrey Horne in the passenger seat beside him.

* * *

 

The first hour or so of the car trip passes in what Cooper can only describe as torturous silence. The car is not equipped with a tape deck, so there's no music to drown out the quiet. Audrey occasionally breaks the silence by humming, looking down at her perfectly polished nails as she does so, delicately- so delicately- avoiding Cooper's eyes. Coop, for his part, keeps his eyes on the road. He tells himself there is a very good reason for this: he's never driven in this part of the country. So naturally, he ought to keep looking straight ahead and not allow himself to be distracted by the appearance of his companion. Or her scent. Or the song she's humming. Any of those things. It's unfortunate- or perhaps fortunate- for him, then, that each of these things imprinted themselves onto his consciousness the moment he met Audrey in the parking lot this morning.

He'd say that she hasn't changed much in the intervening ten years, but that is not entirely true. It just seems that way- or perhaps he wishes it did. She's still wearing a plaid skirt and green cardigan, though this skirt is longer and narrower than the full pleats she wore when she was living in Twin Peaks. Her FBI badge is clipped to her breast pocket. There's a faint milky smell hovering around her, probably owing to perfume. He doesn't know the name of the song she's humming, but he recognizes it vaguely from his brief brushes with Top 40 Radio. She is as perfectly put together as he would have expected, her high school skin shed but her innate personality- hard and sparkling, like a diamond- still glittering through. Her lipstick is perfect. Her outfit is exquisite, yet entirely work-appropriate. Her hair, slightly longer than it was when he first knew her, is impeccably styled . There are faint lines around her eyes, but they serve only to brush away the former childish roundness of her face and bring her features to the full flower of adulthood. He should not be noticing any of these things. _And_ _yet_.

It is, unsurprisingly, Audrey who speaks first. "I hope we won't spend the whole case in silence," she says. "That seems awkward. And not especially conductive to getting work done."

Cooper nods tightly. "That it does," he says in his best jovial tone. He fails miserably.

Audrey sighs. "You've read the casefile, yes?" she says. With her right hand, she pulls said file out of her briefcase. "There's not much here."

Cooper shakes his head, then realizes that there are two statements that Audrey could take his gesture as a reply to. "I did," he says. "And no, there isn't."

They've been sent to look for a high school student by the name of Heather Gutierrez. The yearbook photo clipped to the casefile shows a young girl, perhaps about fourteen when the photo was taken (she was just shy of her sixteenth birthday when she disappeared) her hair in stiff pigtail braids, her smile wide and friendly, showing off her braces. A week earlier, Heather had told her mother she was going to sleep over at a friend's house, and failed to return home the next day. The friend claimed she'd never arrived, or even made plans to sleep over in the first place. A few days later, reports came in to the police station of a girl matching Heather's description hitchhiking along the highway that led from Arizona to New Mexico. In other words, she may have crossed the state border, which was where the FBI came in.

"Ordinarily we don't get involved in cases like this," the director had explained apologetically when the case first landed on his desk. "Broken home, mom works in a diner- usually it turns out the girl's just run away. But the mom's boyfriend works for the state police, and he's putting pressure on us to investigate. The publicity could be bad if we ignored it."

It made Cooper think back to the Palmer case: how much bad publicity had that garnered them? Honestly, he had no idea. For most of the aftermath, he had been in the hospital, entirely unaware of what was taking place around him. He remembered none of that time- or rather, he remembered none of what had taken place in and around his body during that time. He remembers the Black Lodge, the Man From Another Place, BOB laughing at him- but he remembers nothing of the real world. Nothing until he woke with the Bookhouse Boys ringing his hospital bed, chanting in unison as BOB was torn from him with a howl of thwarted rage. What happened in the wider world- the news reports, the speculation, the FBI's embarrassment- is something he's tried hard to avoid thinking about in the aftermath. He's worked to put that part of his life behind him. It was working fairly well, until Audrey Horne came swooping in and he was given Laura Palmer's heir to investigate.

"I have to think they didn't try too hard," Audrey was saying, frowning as she flipped through the file. "Which is odd, because this girl's supposed to be really important, right? Important enough that they put pressure on the Bureau to look for her? But all they've got is her DOB, her last report card, and her family stats. No hobbies, no friends- nothing." She shook her head, closing the folder. "I've got to believe they could have dug up more, if they'd tried."

"Mmm," is all Cooper says.

Audrey sighs and drops the file back into her briefcase. "Well, we'll find out more when we get there, I guess."

Cooper keeps his eyes on the road and keeps driving.

* * *

 

* * *

 

Heather Gutierrez lived- until recently- in the small town of Javier's Bluffs, which owes its name to the surrounding sheer cliffs, which are honeycombed with a series of caves. Audrey suspects, gazing up at them as they drive into town, that those caves are the subject of a good deal of urban myth among the youth of Javier's Bluffs. She thinks of the caves surrounding Twin Peaks, and of the wall tunnels at the Great Northern, and finds herself shivering in the Arizona heat.

No sooner have they parked the car outside the police station than a woman is hurrying out to greet them. She looks nothing like Lucy Moran- this woman is tall, dark-skinned, and big-boned- but recognition strikes Audrey all the same, the commonality of all small-town police secretaries. The woman introduces herself as Amy Moreno, and shakes both their hands enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you're here," she says. "The state police have been out combing the highway all day, but we haven't heard anything yet. And our department's been asking around Heather's friends, but they don't know anything either."

 _They're not saying anything_ , Audrey mentally corrects her, but she smiles all the same. "It's nice to meet you too, Ms. Moreno. Is the police chief here now? We'd like to meet with him, catch up." She turns to Cooper, expecting him to echo her statement, but finds instead that he's looking around with an expression of absolute horror. Audrey can't parse what's making the expression appear on his face, but she knows that stopping the conversation to ask him will only cause embarrassment for Cooper and gossip on Amy Moreno's part. Gossip which, she knows, will quickly spread all through the police department and through the local businesses, making the town completely inhospitable to their investigation because everyone will have decided that one of the special FBI agents is actually a space cadet. So she switches her attention back to Amy, smiling broadly. 

Amy looks apologetic. "I'm afraid he's out with the rest of the search party. I'm the only one left to hold down the fort, you see."

Audrey considers pointing out that both the local and state police knew that they were on their way, given that she'd called them before they set out, and they could have thought ahead to leave someone at the station who could answer their questions. But she knows unloading all this on Amy is patently unfair- she didn't ask to work for a police force that had no capacity to coordinate an investigation with several different departments. So instead, she plasters her smile on even more firmly. "Well in that case, I'd like to speak to you personally. I don't think it'll take both of us, though, so why don't you-" she turns to Cooper- "go and drop our bags off at the motel? The rooms are booked in your name; I'm sure there won't be a problem checking in."

For a moment, she's afraid that Cooper is too far gone into whatever mental hellscape he's traversing. But then he shakes himself out of it, offering Audrey and Amy a smile that is- if not trademark Cooper- at least close enough that Amy probably can't tell the difference. "Will do," he says. "Nice meeting you, Ms. Moreno."

Audrey waits until Cooper's got the car started before giving Amy her full attention again. "Let's head in, out of the heat," she says. "And- I don't want to impose- but you wouldn't happen to have a coffee maker in the station, would you?"

* * *

Audrey knows that talking to Amy- while potentially productive, in the way that talking to small-town receptionists usually was when collecting bits of gossipy ephemera- would probably not going to lead her to an immediate break in the case, so she isn't disappointed when Amy isn't able to offer her much in the way of clues. She tells her all about Heathers' family- father died when she was five, mother Becky worked at the local diner to make ends meet, no extended family since her grandmother had died back in '93. She describes Heather's general attitude towards life as "sullen," adding that while she'd always been a "morose child," her temper had begun to swing wildly between long silences and violent outbursts after starting high school. She also happened to add, in passing, that Heather's entrance into the ninth grade had happened to co-incide with her mother's rejuvenated dating life.

"Well, that's understandable," Audrey says, scribbling hastily on her notepad. "No child adjusts well to suddenly having to share their parent." _She_ hadn't reacted well, she reflected ruefully, and Ben Horne had been the type of parent whose attention really wasn't worth all that much anyway. And she'd been competing with another girl- not a grown man who carried with him the potential to knock the family dynamic sideways for good and replace her dead father in the process.

"But he's such a _nice_ man," Amy says with a wistful sigh that holds just a hint of jealousy. Audrey suppresses a smile. "And he did everything he could to get into Heather's good graces- bought her anything she could ask for, not that she ever did. Ask, that is. Took her and her mother out to nice dinners, paid for dance lessons- everything a girl could want. I just don't understand it."

"Teenagers can be hard to understand," Audrey says, though everything Amy's told her makes perfect sense to her. Of course Heather had reacted badly to a father figure muscling his way into her life and trying to buy her affections. "Did she complain to her friends about him? Is that how everyone knew about the problems in their relationship?"

"Oh, I'm sure she did," Amy says, "but Heather was never a popular girl. She had that one good friend, Ali McPherson, but they seemed to have drifted apart in the past year or so. That's the girl Heather said she was sleeping over with the night she disappeared." She lowers her voice, though there's nobody but her and Audrey in the room to hear it. "I know I shouldn't say this, with Becky going through such a difficult time, but she was never a very- well, _attentive_ mother. Of course, I don't want to insinuate that this whole awful thing was her fault, but if she'd paid more attention to Heather, she might have known that she and Ali weren't close any more." She presses her lips together. "Of course, that's none of my business."

Audrey nods, still scribbling. "So Ali wouldn't know what's been going on in Heather's life lately?" She thinks fleetingly of Donna Hayward and Ronette Pulaski- two girls who'd been closer than sisters to Laura, and they still hadn't known. Nobody had. Nobody had been paying close enough attention. It seemed that Heather- for all of Amy's apologetic insinuations- had had the same problem.

"The police already spoke to her," Amy says. "She says she doesn't know anything."

 Audrey flips her notebook closed and stands up. "Well, thank you for your time," she says. Amy smiles happily. "I'm going to head over to the motel- it's-" She checks her watch. "-almost dinnertime, and I expect everyone will be too worn out from the search to answer questions tonight. When the chief gets back, could you let him know that I'd like to speak with Becky Gutierrez and her boyfriend tomorrow? I imagine she'd like a bit of warning." Left to her own devices, Audrey would rather catch them off-guard- she doesn't think they've done anything wrong (yet) but prepared interview subjects were never as open as those who hadn't had time to steel themselves against potential questions. But she also knows that upsetting Becky Gutierrez and making her unwilling to talk to them will throw a serious wrench into the investigation. Sometimes delicacy trumps urgency.

"Of course,"Amy says.

Audrey nods and steps out of the police station, into the fading light of evening. It's late December- cold enough for snow in Washington, but here in Arizona, the weather is still warm. She glances briefly up and down the street, looking for the car before remembering that she sent it off with Cooper. "Damn it," she mutters, cursing her choice to wear high heels, and sets off on foot.

Her journey is neither as long or as arduous as she'd feared- a town the size of Javier's Bluffs has a very small business district, and Audrey finds the motel just two blocks away from the police station. She hasn't even had to take her shoes off. When she approaches their room number, she finds an envelope taped to the handle, the familiar shape of a key bulging against the paper. Cooper's written her name on it in neat cursive, and Audrey smiles to herself as she removes the key and lets herself into the room.

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden dim light. When they do, she catches sight of Cooper, stretched out across one of the double beds, a washcloth thrown across his eyes. He's twitching in his sleep, like a dog chasing dream rabbits, but there is nothing carefree or mindless about his movements. His arms are held up stiffly at his sides, elbows bent, fingers extended into claws. His legs wobble back and forth on the bedcovers, as though he's trying to stand up and run but can't find the strength. Little hisses of air escape between his clenched teeth with every breath.

Audrey drops her briefcase and runs over, putting a hand on Cooper's knee and shaking it. "Agent Cooper!" she says, and then "Dale!" when it doesn't look like he's responding. Another series of hard shakes, and he's coming out of his dream, washcloth falling to the carpet with a soft plop as he looks around, wild-eyed and blank. 

"Dale!" she says again, and his face clears. For what seems like the first time, he looks directly at her, and it takes everything Audrey has not to recoil at the look on his face. Not because it's cruel or dangerous- it's not- but because that kind of black terror and pain is something she's never seen before, not in her eighteen years of living in Twin Peaks or her time investigating and studying violent crimes with the FBI. It's the kind of horror that a person never quite comes back from- they may walk the roads of a normal life afterwards, but they always leave a piece of their soul behind. Audrey doesn't know for certain what Cooper saw, when he was walking between worlds, but she knows enough about what happened in Twin Peaks that a man of any less character than Cooper's would have been utterly destroyed by it. He nearly had been. So when she sees this look in his eyes, the first thing she fears is the worst.

"What is it?" she asks.

Cooper shakes his head; once, twice. "I do not like it here," he says slowly. He looks at her. "I apologize, Audrey, but I think my accompanying you on this assignment was a mistake. I'm going to call in to the office and ask that they send out a replacement. I'm no help to you here."

Audrey grips his knee tightly. She's not stupid. She's studied psychology and trauma; she knows what experiences like the ones Cooper has undergone do to the mind. But this far, there's been nothing in Javier's Bluffs- nothing that she can see, at any rate- that ought to be reminding him of his time in the Black Lodge. There are reminders of Twin Peaks, yes- she can see that. But there is nothing that ought to be affecting Cooper like this. Nothing that meets the eye should be sending him into the depths of his memories. Something else is going on, something invisible. And Audrey does not like invisible things.

"You say you don't like it here," she says. "Why? What is it that's doing this to you?"

"I-" Cooper begins. His eyes lose their focus again, and Audrey digs her nails into his knee, hoping to anchor him to the real world. "I don't know," he says. "There is no obvious reason that I should be having such a strong reaction to this case. But something in me recognizes something in this town, and I am not ashamed to say that it frightens me, Audrey. I thought that the things I had witnessed were limited to Twin Peaks. It seems I was mistaken."

"What?" she asks. "What sort of things?" When he hesitates, she adds "Look, you don't need to give me any specifics, but I need to know what we're dealing with. Is it another Leland? Laura?"

"I'm not sure," he says, but his voice is uncertain. "There are things that I still cannot put a name to, even after all these years. Maybe I could with more direct exposure, but . . ." His voice dries in his throat as the meaning of what he's saying dawns on both of them.

Audrey takes a deep breath. "Look," she says. "If you think that whatever we're dealing with will be more than you can handle, then I'll drive you back to Washington myself, no questions asked. I'll tell the director that we clashed, that I had trouble respecting your authority- whatever. I can make them buy it." She holds Cooper's gaze. "But if you think you can hold out? Even if it's just for a few days? I need you here with me. Heather Gutierrez has been missing for a week, and we both know the statistics on finding missing persons after the first fourty-eight hours. I don't want you to burn yourself out, but I also don't want to tell Becky Gutierrez that her daughter is dead. Can you handle it?"

There is a long pause. During that pause, Audrey considers everything Cooper could potentially say- that he can't handle this, that he's sorry, that he needs to go back to Washington and leave her with some strange new agent who's never handled a case like this before. She wouldn't blame him for any of that. She hopes he knows it. She's torn between wanting to keep Cooper- Cooper who protected her all through his stay in Twin Peaks, Cooper who once sat up all night with her drinking malteds and exchanging secrets, Cooper who stared into the blackest part of hell and somehow stumbled out alive- safe and sane, and wanting to bring Heather Gutierrez home alive. Home so she can live to fight with her mother and resent her stepfather another day. Working with the FBI was much easier when she only had to focus on one person at a time. Maybe that's why she's never been able to hold on to a partner for more than a year.

But finally, Cooper nods, and Audrey lets all her breath out in a rush. "I'll stay," he says. His eyes seem suddenly clearer, more focused. "I need to stay."

Audrey wants to say _good, because I need you to stay_ , but she dismisses the thought on the basis of sounding too damsel-y. Instead, she just says "Good."

* * *

 

* * *

 

The phone rings the next morning, while Audrey is in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Cooper picks it up in her stead, and is immediately assailed with the rough voice of a man who Cooper assumes is the chief of police. "Agent Cooper? Am I speaking to Agent Cooper?"

"You are," Cooper says, wishing that he was operating on a proper night's sleep instead of the fits and starts of rest he'd had instead. It seems selfish to complain- after all, Audrey spent most of the night awake as well, holding his hand as he thrashed through nightmares- but he is well and truly exhausted. "To whom am I speaking?"

"This is Police Chief Christopher Rocha," the voice informs him, and Cooper mentally congratulates himself for guessing correctly. "Your partner Miss Horne asked for us to schedule a meeting between yourself and Becky Gutierrez this morning, and I'm calling to let you know that the meeting's been arranged. She and Officer Carpenter are expecting you at their house this morning at ten o'clock. Their address should be in your file. Don't keep them waiting."

The line went dead before Cooper had a chance to respond- either by pointing out that Audrey's correct title was Agent Horne, or that both he and she would be at the meeting. As the thought occurred to him, Audrey emerged from the bathroom, wiping a small bit of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth. "Who was that?"

"The chief of police, apparently," Cooper says, staring at the phone. "He was calling to tell us that we have an appointment with Heather Gutierrez's mother and stepfather later this morning, at ten. He said the number is on file?"

Audrey crossed the room to pick up Heather's file from where it was sitting on her bedspread. "It is," she said, flipping through it. "149 Santillian Street." She glanced up from the file. "We should be able to walk over, but if you'd rather take the car . . . ?"

"Not at all," Cooper said. Despite the heavy grit in the corners of his eyes, he found himself feeling much better than he had the previous day. Perhaps he'd only been reacting to the sudden rush of reminders of the Palmer case. Or perhaps the old adage was true: things really did look better in the morning. "I think I'll enjoy the opportunity for taking a walk around town. It should give us a chance to see the sights."

Audrey smiled, and  Cooper was reminded once again of the pull he'd felt upon first encountering her all those years ago. Compassion had grown in her since then, and it lit up her face as she looked at him, transforming what had been a teenager's sly grin into a woman's broad smile. She held a hand out to him.  "Shall we?" "

We shall," he says, taking the proffered hand and allowing her to lead him out the door.

As they walk down the main street of Javier's Bluffs, Cooper finds his spirits rising. Whatever gloom descended on him the previous day seems to have dissipated- or at least, retreated far enough that he can enjoy the fine weather without feeling the need to glance over his shoulder with every step. In preparation for the trip, he'd read several guidebooks describing this part of Arizona, with a special focus on the local foliage, and he finds himself pointing out the indigenous plant life to Audrey as they walk by.

"That there," he says, pointing, "is known colloquially as the desert marigold, although it actually has few genetic links to the marigold family. It grows perennially, which I'm sure is why the Javier's Bluffs city council has decided to line the streets with it. It offers the promise of year-round beautification. Additionally, it requires very little watering- an asset, living out here in the desert."

"I'm surprised they haven't planted any cactuses," Audrey says, "seeing as how there's a picture of one on every street sign." It's true: all the signs they have passed bear a stencil of what seems to be the town emblem, a three-pointed cactus, all three points lifted proudly towards the sun. "Maybe they thought it was overkill?"

"Perhaps," Cooper says, "or perhaps they worried that tourists would come to harm when encountering an unfamiliar plant."

Audrey shakes her head. "From what I've seen so far, they don't seem all that interested in tourists."

This is also true: while the town does have one motel to its name, there are few other amenities that might draw tourist infrastructure. There is only one diner, and a small one at that. There is no city map that either Cooper or Audrey have been able to find; it seems that the assumption is that anyone wishing to find their way around Javier's Bluffs will already know where they are and where they're going. There are also no attractions to draw in visitors- no monuments, no museums, and no hiking trails that curious outsiders might take advantage of. Javier's Bluffs is, for all intents and purposes, an entirely self-sustaining economy. Cooper hasn't even seen anyone out roaming the streets- although, he reflects, there may be a curfew in place since Heather Gutierrez's disappearance.

"The kids here must be so _bored_ ," Audrey says suddenly. "I mean, they've got Internet, which is more than we had back in the early nineties. But can you imagine? There's no other towns around for miles." She shakes her head. "I don't think Heather ran away, but I could understand why if she had. All the teenagers must be dying to escape." Cooper hears a note of remembered frustration in her voice, and thinks again of the girl he knew in Twin Peaks- bright, clever, and bursting at the seams with repressed potential. Reading Heather's file, he doesn't think their missing girl is another Audrey- but how could he know? If he'd only seen Audrey's name and statistics on a piece of paper before meeting her, he wouldn't have anticipated the reality. That sort of vitality could not be captured in print.

"Why don't you think she's run away?" he asks, curious. "She does seem to fit the profile. She dislikes her family, and has few friends. It seems that she has little to tie her to this place. What reason would she have to stay?"

Audrey sighs. "I could be wrong," she says. "But something in her file just pinged me as . . . _off_. I can't explain it. I know everyone involved would probably be happy to hear that she'd just skipped town on her own and have her brought back, no questions asked. But I feel like there's something else. going on." She sighs again. "I know I'm not making any sense."

"On the contrary," Cooper says, "you make perfect sense." He's thinking of what the director told him:  _Broken home, mom works in a diner- usually it turns out the girl's just run away._ When Audrey says "everyone involved," he knows she means the FBI. He also knows- or remembers- that Audrey has enough of the contrarian in her to want to prove them wrong. He will also admit to sharing that trait with her. The director's easy dismissal of Heather's disappearance rankles. And, as always, he is thinking of Laura Palmer. When she went missing, who would have been willing to think that an element within her own family could be responsible? And yet, look how it had turned out. Heather Gutierrez was not Laura Palmer- not even close. But he feels deep in his gut that there is something that ties the two girls, across the continuum of time and space. Some great universal reason that he and Audrey have been united to solve this case, that has nothing to do with their respective reputations in the Bureau.

Audrey stops in front of him. "We're here," she says.

And indeed, when he looks around, it appears that they are. Santillian Street, the place where Heather's mother lives, looks little like the avenues he and Audrey were strolling down only minutes earlier. It shares the adobe-flavoured architecture of the rest of the town, but that is where the similarities end. There are no desert marigolds blooming on this street. Housepaint peels, and rusted bicycles lie on front lawns, tires spinning lazily in the sun. It looks, in short, like a street full of people who have given up. Cooper thinks of Twin Peaks again, of visiting Shelly Johnson's house. The atmosphere is uncomfortably familiar.

"It's nine fifty-five," Audrey says. "Let's go." And without further ado, she marches up to the house in front of them and raps on the door. Cooper hurries to catch up.

The woman who opens the door to them must be Becky Gutierrez- there is no one else she could possibly be. She has the same medium-brown skin as her daughter, and while her hair is not in pigtail braids, it is a similar shade of black. She is also wearing a powder-pink waitress uniform, and is wringing her hands in her skirt as she takes in the sight of them. Cooper inclines his head, hoping to put her at ease.

"Ms. Gutierrez?" Audrey asks. She continues without waiting for an answer. "I'm Agent Horne, and this is Agent Cooper. The police chief called this morning to tell us that you were expecting us at ten. May we come in?"

"I-" Ms. Gutierrez continues to wring her hands, glancing between the two of them. "Yes, of course. Please come in and sit down."

The house she ushers them into is somewhat more put-together than the exterior walls. The furniture is shabby, to be sure, but it is also well-cleaned and taken care of. There is a coffee table in the middle of the room, magazines stacked neatly on top. Ms. Gutierrez ushers them over to the couch, sitting down in the armchair opposite. "Mike- I'm sorry, that's Michael Norris, my boyfriend- won't be here until a little later, I'm afraid. He got called into the office this morning, and I don't know that he'll be back before eleven."

"That's perfectly fine," Cooper says smoothly. In these familiar circumstances- discussing the case with a potential witness- he finds himself locking more firmly into his accustomed role. He knows very well what he's doing. "You're actually the one we wanted to speak with. If you could just spare us a few minutes?"

"Of course," says Ms. Gutierrez, looking faintly relieved. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

As Cooper is asking his questions, Audrey murmurs an excuse and slips away- ostensibly to the washroom, but Cooper knows that she's busy investigating Heather's room. It's possible that Ms. Gutierrez would let them in, if they asked, but then she would hover in the doorway while they searched; better to have Audrey conduct her own hunt through Heather's belongings, without Ms. Gutierrez's interference. It's a dubiously moral move, but Audrey is right: Heather has been missing for a week. Every second counts.

Becky Guiterrez, he discovers quickly, is not a strong woman. He would not expect it of her, with her daughter's whereabouts unknown, but he finds himself taking a dislike to the woman with every answer she gives. Her speech is peppered with variations on "well, what could I do?" and "she just wouldn't listen." Heather, it seems, made no secret of her dislike for the family home and the people in it. She especially did not appreciate the presence of her mother's boyfriend, and took to absenting herself from the house whenever he dropped by- which was often. "I tried to get her to stay," Becky says, mouth turned over in a pout, "but what was I supposed to do, ban him from the house to keep her happy? It's _my_ house."

"Mmm," Cooper says, scrawling on his notepad. Thus far, the conversation has proved spectacularly unhelpful, save for providing more evidence for the "runaway" theory. Still, he has difficulty buying it. His intuition still tells him something is wrong.

When they hear the front door swing open, Ms. Gutierrez shoots to her feet, eyes widening. "Mike's home!" she says, spirits shooting upwards. "Mike, this is Agent Cooper from the FBI. Agent Cooper, this is-"

The rest of her sentence is drowned out as Cooper meets Mike Norris's eyes and nearly stumbled backwards. He's seen these eyes before: in a different place, a different time, a world between worlds. He's seen this face, a mask over Leland Palmer's as he screamed down the police station. He's seen this face in the mirror. He knows who took Heather Gutierrez. _He knows_.

Whether he's dealing with the same BOB or not, he doesn't know; either this is a different (though no less malevolent) spirit, or BOB has grown trigger-happy since he was expelled from Cooper's body. His hand snaps immediately to his holster, drawing a state-issued revolver and leveling it at Cooper's chest. As Becky screams, Cooper leaps out of the way, but not fast enough: the bullet clips him in the ribcage, and he feels a piercing sensation that he knows instinctively is the bullet burrowing itself in his lung. He opens his mouth to shout for Audrey, but his strength is quickly being sapped, and he sags towards the floor.

Audrey must have heard the gunshot, though, because she's suddenly standing beside him. Through a red haze, Cooper looks up at her; she's smiling calmly, entirely unruffled. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Norris," she says. As Mike and Becky blink in confusion, Audrey steps over Cooper's legs, hand up, palm outward, and presses her hand to Mike Norris's forehead. He goes down like a ton of bricks. She snaps to attention immediately afterwards, snatching the telephone from its cradle on the hall table and punching in three digits. "Nine-one-one?" she asks. "I'm at 149 Santillian Street with one federal officer down and a suspect in custody . . ."

Her voice is the last thing Cooper hears before he slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Audrey spends the next hour riding in an ambulance next to Cooper, and several hours after that sitting in the waiting room of the Sierra Vista hospital. Javier's Bluffs has no emergency medical services on hand, apart from a few police officers with rudimentary first aid training, so after the immediate blood flow is stemmed, Cooper was transported to the closest city. He spends two hours in the operating room, with Audrey sitting on a hard plastic chair in the hall, before one of the doctors emerges and tells her he should be fine: the bullet only nicked his lung, and they were able to remove it without causing further trauma. They were moving him to the recovery ward, and he would be awake within the half-hour.

Audrey then traded the first hard plastic chair for a second, this one by Cooper's bedside. The doctors made good on their promise, and by the time the clock is ticking towards twelve-thirty, Cooper's eyes are flickering open. Audrey breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

"Mmmph," is the first thing he says. He makes no attempt to sit up, for which Audrey is profoundly grateful- she doesn't want to have to call the nurses back in. His eyes dart around the room, taking in his surroundings. "I take it I was shot?"

"Good guess," Audrey says, cracking a smile. "The doctors took the bullet out. They said you'll be fine."

"Well, that's always good to hear." Cooper's eyes roll towards the ceiling. "Michael Norris?"

"In custody," Audrey replies. "In the Javier's Bluffs holding cell, but that's just until the Bureau reinforcements show up to transport him." She sighs. "There'll probably be some kind of territorial dispute over the whole thing- the Javier's Bluffs P.D. won't want to give him up- but he's under arrest for assaulting a federal officer and suspicion of kidnapping. The F.B.I. takes precedent."

Cooper coughs slightly. "I'm afraid that should be suspicion of kidnapping and murder." He meets Audrey's eyes. "I know this will be difficult for you to believe, but Michael Norris is not wholly responsible for his stepdaughter's disappearance. When I looked at that man, I saw something I recognized- something I have encountered before, long ago. It is not conceivable to me that the creatures of the Black Lodge somehow simultaneously exist in Twin Peaks and Javier's Bluffs, and yet I can offer no other satisfactory explanation. The creature responsible for the disappearance of Heather Guiterrez is somehow linked with the thing that killed Laura Palmer."

"You don't have to convince me," Audrey says softly. "I believe you." She lays her left hand on Cooper's, and holds up her right. Nestled in her palm is the object she used to subdue Michael Norris- a small disc, perhaps four inches across in length. It is made up of intricate beadwork, red, white, and yellow beads shining dully under the florescent hospital room lights. "I found this in Heather's room. When I touched Norris with it, he went down like a sack of bricks. Does it look at all familiar to you?"

Cooper picks it up, scrutinizes it for several long moments, then shakes his head. "I've never seen it before. Perhaps you should fax a photo of it to the Twin Peaks sheriff's office- Harry or Hawk might know what it is."

"It's almost the twenty-first century," Audrey says, gently teasing. "I can just send an e-mail." She pockets the disc. "Whatever it is, Heather kept it under her pillow. When I picked it up for the first time, it didn't do anything, but it started to vibrate when I heard Norris come in. I took a chance."

"It was a smart move," Cooper says. He brings his fingers up, gently squeezing her hand. Audrey allows herself to melt for a second before giving herself a firm mental shake and reminding herself that she is not a teenage girl anymore; she is a federal agent, and she has a case to wrap up. "It's just too bad that it couldn't save Heather. I hope that if Norris is able to overcome whatever spirit is possessing him, he'll be able to tell investigators where he hid the body."

Audrey tilts her head. "You think she's dead? For certain?"

Cooper sighs. "I'm afraid I can't envision any other outcome."

Audrey smiles. "Don't be so sure."

He goes back to sleep not long after that; he is still on multiple painkillers to soothe his injured nerves. Audrey waits until she's sure he's out like a light and then quietly creeps out, notifying a nurse in the hallway that she should be back later in the afternoon. She has no car in Sierra Vista, but finds a rental place with ease, and quickly swings out onto the highway, driving until she nears Javier's Bluffs again. Heather's beaded disc is still humming in her pocket. In her other pocket- the one on the inside of her jacket- she has stored the other item of interest she found in Heather's room.

She's forced to swing by the motel first, just so that she can switch from her pumps to a more sensible pair of running shoes. What a role reversal, she thinks ruefully; there was a time when she eschewed any shoes but pumps when going out in public. After she's changed her shoes and clothes, she gets back into her own car and drives off towards the bluffs. The disc hums louder, the closer she draws, and by the time she's parked her car and gotten out, she's sure any bystander walking past could hear the noise it's making. Fortunately, there are no bystanders; no one but her, it seems, it going hiking today. She reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out the other item; a map of the cave system of Javier's Bluffs, hand-drawn with what looks like a red pencil crayon. She's surprised that the local police either didn't find it or didn't think it was important- but then, Mike Norris (or whatever being was controlling him) had been leading the investigation. Perhaps whatever the protection the disc had offered had included throwing him off Heather's trail. Audrey hopes so.

She takes both a flashlight and a compass with her into the caves; she's not an experienced spelunker, and besides that, she's not stupid. Her quarry presumably knows these caves well enough to hide herself from searchers, and Audrey has only the map to guide her. So, rather than try to orient herself, she lets the disc guide her. The humming, she thinks, is as good a clue as any. When she finds herself at a dead end, the disc still vibrating in her palm, she stops.

"Heather?" she calls. There's no response, so she pushes forward. "My name is Audrey Horne, and I'm with the FBI. I'm here to bring you home."

Still nothing.

"We took your mother's boyfriend into custody this morning," she continues. "He won't be hurting you again. And I found your-" What should she call it? "-talisman. It's what I used to incapacitate him. It's safe to come out."

There's a slight scuffing noise, and when Audrey turns around, a teenage girl is climbing out of a crevasse in the cave walls. Audrey wonders how she didn't see it when she walked past. Perhaps the cave system has secrets it's not interested in sharing. The girl- dressed in a plaid shirt and cutoff jeans- lacks the pigtail braids of her school photo, but her round face, dark skin, and piercing eyes are all the same. She nods at the disc in Audrey's hand. "I didn't think anyone would find that."

"It was under your pillow," Audrey says.

Heather scoffs. "I know that. But no one else ever found it- not even Mom, when she was cleaning my room. So how'd you get to it?"

Audrey smiled. "Let's just say I have some experience with this stuff."

* * *

Heather protests the idea of returning to her mother's house. "She's just going to blame me," she says bitterly. "She always does. And this time I got her boyfriend arrested. She's going to kick me right back out as soon as I walk in the door."

"She won't," Audrey says. "For one thing, she's not technically allowed to- it would be child endangerment." This is only somewhat true, but Audrey suspects that Becky Guiterrez won't be able to tell the difference. "For another, the whole town has been looking for you all week. It would look very bad if she threw you out. And even if she's as bad as you say- and I'm not doubting you- the public pressure, at least, should be enough to make her toe the line."

Heather flops back in her chair, arms crossed, scowling. "I still don't want to go." Her lower lip juts out, making her look- even more so than before- like a child. It's hard for Audrey to remember that the girl sitting in front of her is sixteen and has already experienced things that have stripped her childhood from her for good. It's even harder to remember that the right thing- the legal thing- to do is to send her back to Becky Guiterrez, who Audrey doesn't doubt is just as bad as Heather says. Vivdily, she remembers her own upbringing; in a nicer house than Heather's, but with just as little love to go around. Sending girls back to miserable homes is not why she joined the Bureau. 

"Do you have any other relatives?" she asks.

Heather gives her head a shake. "Uh, I think Mom has a sister? But she lives way up north. I've never met her."

Audrey taps her pen against the form she's filling out, trying not to bite her lip. _The right thing to do_ , she thinks again. When she had been a little older than Heather, and just as anxious to escape, Agent Cooper- who she's patterned a good deal of her own work on, though she's never found an opportunity to tell him as much- sent her back to Ben Horne, even though they both knew what sort of man he was. But he'd also been living at the Great Northern at the time. She'd had someplace to run, when she needed it. Neither she nor Cooper plan on staying in Javier's Bluffs any longer than she needed to. There was no support system here.

A thought occurs to her. She pulls a pad of paper towards her, writes a line on the top piece, and then rips it off and passes it to Heather. In neat cursive, she's written her e-mail address. Heather takes the paper and raises her eyebrows at it. "You want to be my penpal?"

"Of sorts." Audrey sits back in her chair. "You can reach me there if you need to. And if things are really bad, I'll send someone to check up on you and your mom. Deal?"

Heather's brow furrows in an expression Audrey recognizes: a girl, older than her years, sizing up her options. Audrey can remember being that girl. Finally, Heather nods. "Deal."

Audrey smiles, and turns back to her report.

* * *

 

Cooper is discharged from the hospital precisely three days after entering it. He has a new, red scar on his chest to commemorate the occasion, and still walks slightly stiffly. The hospital staff advise him to take it easy, which won't be a problem: the FBI has sent reinforcement to Javier's Bluffs in order to investigate Mike Norris's involvement in his stepdaughter's disappearance, and Cooper and Audrey are being sent back to D.C. with honours. "You did good, Coop," Albert says gruffly to him over the phone. Denise and Diane both send him get-well cards and bouquets. From his tree farm, Gordon sends a bouquet of apple tree branches; they smell quite nice. And Audrey, of course, is there to watch over him as he recovers, guarding the door while he sleeps and keeping him entertained while he's awake. She is also the designated driver on the way home, as Cooper is still under the influence of a good deal of pain medication.

Their trip out of Javier's Bluffs is quiet, but it is not the strained quiet of their earlier journey. Cooper works on a crosswork puzzle while Audrey hums along with the radio- this time a song Cooper can name, Kate Bush's "Women's Work." After awhile, he clears his throat. "I'd like to thank you," he says, "for assisting me on this case." He pauses. "No, assisting is not the correct word. We were equal partners, and truth be told, you did a great deal of the work. But I am especially indebted to you for saving me when Michael Norris attacked. Undoubtedly I would have been unable to fight him off on my own."

Audrey smiles brilliantly. "What are friends for?"

"Not only that," Cooper continues, "but despite my early fears that our partnership would be difficult due to our shared experiences. I was glad to discover that these experiences appear to have strengthened our ability to work together, rather than diminished it."

There's a pause, then Audrey asks "Do you want to talk about Mike Norris?"

Cooper sighs deeply. He cannot deny, however, that Audrey is correct in her assumption: he _does_ want to talk about Norris. "After I left Twin Peaks," he says, "I assumed- or rather, hoped- that the spirits plaguing that town were limited in their geographic range. I'm sorry to discover that this is not the case. Whatever these spirits are, and whatever their purpose is, they appear to have taken up residence in at least two locations across the country. I'm afraid I don't know what we- I- can do about that."

"'We' is right," Audrey says. "And I think we did okay, don't you? Heather's safe. Norris is in jail. It's turned out better than Laura's case did, hasn't it? Nobody died."

"That is true," Cooper admits. "However, we are left with a worrying possibility. If two of these cases exist, is it not possible that there are more? How can we hope to protect those who might be harmed if we cannot anticipate where these spirits will strike?"

Audrey tilts her head to the side slightly. "Well," she says, "I guess the first step is to have people who know what they're doing on the case. And of everyone in the FBI, I'd say we're probably the most qualified to deal with this. So- what do you say we make this our specialty? Finding cases that seem familiar and checking them out?"

Cooper considers. "We would need to convince the director that we should be allowed to pick our cases."

Audrey snorts. "We just concluded a high-profile case in less than a week, got shot in the process, and managed to prevent any fatalities. I think now is as good a time as any to be asking the director for favours." She takes one hand off the wheel and extends it to Cooper. "Partners?"

Cooper allows himself to smile. When he gets back to Washington, he thinks, he ought to tell Albert how wrong he was. He takes her hand. "Partners." And, he thinks, in the future, they might hope to be something more.

**Author's Note:**

> The actress in Heather's missing poster is Gina Rodriguez.


End file.
